Wedding of the Year

by VICTORIA MALVEY

  Still laughing, she rose and slanted a glance up at him. Dear God, he wanted to kiss the laughter from her lips and swallow the happy sound inside of him until it filled him up and took away that awful emptiness he'd felt for far too long. Why had he worried that she would be mortified by his all-too-public kiss? Hadn't she already proven, by her easy acceptance of his business, that she was truly an original?

  His original.

  Satisfaction broadened his foolish grin as he raised his hands to silence the cheers. “Gentlemen, may I introduce the finest lady it has been my pleasure to meet, Lady Elizabeth Everley?”

  Each and every one of his workers, from the most well-educated to the coarsest, gave Elizabeth their best version of a bow. Obviously touched, she pressed her hands to her chest. “Thank you, gentlemen, for your gracious welcome.”

  Pride burst through Richard as she gave his workers a reply worthy of the finest drawing room. Cupping her elbow, he shifted her to face his foreman. “Elizabeth, may I present Mr. Perth? He's the man who makes everything run so smoothly. Without him, I would be lost.”

  Without hesitation, Elizabeth grasped Mr. Perth's outstretched hand and shook it. “It is indeed a pleasure, sir,” she said warmly. “I find this entire process utterly fascinating. Would you mind giving me the grand tour?”

  “Don't know how grand it would be, miss, but I'd be pleased to show you the operation.” Gesturing toward where the mixers stood, Mr. Perth led Elizabeth over to them. “Now, there's really nothing much to mix together, just some flour and water, but it's getting the right amounts of each that's the trick. Then you need to push it and pull it until it forms into a ball.”

  “Just flour and water?” Elizabeth frowned slightly. “Wouldn't that make them taste rather bland?”

  Mr. Perth beamed at her as if she were a prized pupil. “Now that's a right fine question, miss,” he agreed readily. “And it would indeed be not much to eat if it weren't for how we prepare them. If you'll come over here with me, I'll show you the next step.”

  Watching Elizabeth gave Richard new insight . . . and renewed hope. She greeted everyone easily, conversed with the men without reserve or hesitation, and moved with unconscious grace, an ease that seemed to be missing whenever she was amongst the ton.

  Yet, here, in his new world, she was comfortable.

  What else had he expected from a woman who wandered through junk parts stores and blew up her workshop?

  Mr. Perth led her behind the narrow tables where the men were rolling and twisting the dough. Sawing off a chunk of dough, Mr. Perth handed it to Elizabeth, who accepted it with a murmur of thanks that brought approving nods from his men. “Take the dough and roll it between your hands and the board like so.” Mr. Perth held his hands flat and, using his palms, rolled the dough beneath them, moving his hands steadily outward to lengthen the piece of dough. Copying him, she continued until Mr. Perth stopped her. “That's good, and now it's time for the shaping. First, you curve the dough up like this.” He made a U-shape out of the dough.

  Though she followed his direction, Elizabeth began to pepper him with questions. “How did you learn to make pretzels? Or did you create them?”

  “I'm afraid Mr. Perth was born hundreds of years too late to have created them,” Richard supplied, stepping closer until he stood on the opposite side of the table from Elizabeth. “Pretzels were created by the Benedictine monks over twelve hundred years ago. In fact, there's a reason why they're twisted like that.”

  When Elizabeth's eyes lit up with that fierce fire of curiosity, it was all he could do to keep from leaning over the table and kissing her again. “What's the reason?”

  “The U-shape symbolizes arms open to receive God.” As Richard spoke, Mr. Perth demonstrated with his piece of dough. “Then you twist it once for arms crossed in prayer.” Taking the two ends of the U, Mr. Perth folded the right end over the left. “You twist again to symbolize the tightness of marriage and family,” Richard continued as Mr. Perth again laid the right end over the left, creating a complete twist in the dough. “And finally, you fold the ends down onto the bottom of the U, to symbolize embracing God into your heart, home, and life.” When Mr. Perth pressed the ends of his dough into the bottom of his piece, it created the pretzel shape she'd seen on the finished ones. “And in its final shape, those three openings symbolize the Christian Trinity.”

  Finishing up her pretzel as well, Elizabeth reached up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, brushing her hand against her cheek and leaving a streak of flour. Richard took in the picture she made, standing in the midst of his factory in a beautiful silk gown, with her hair done as if she were attending the finest ball . . . with a streak of flour smeared across her face and wearing a huge grin. He'd thought she was beautiful when he'd first seen her in her finery; she'd looked so perfect, almost too perfect, as if she might shatter if he touched her. But now she was real, stunningly real, and she stole his breath away.

  “Here's the secret to pretzels, miss,” Mr. Perth said as he walked over to the vats of boiling water. “We add baking soda to the water to give it some taste.”

  Elizabeth drew her brows together. “I know baking soda has some very unusual properties when combined with other elements, but I didn't think it tasted very good.”

  Chuckling, Mr. Perth dropped his pretzel into the water, letting it bob for a minute or so until he retrieved it with a scooper. “That's true enough, miss, but somehow it just comes out right. Then we place it on these saltcovered trays and bake it in those coal ovens.” Guiding Elizabeth toward the back of the room, he retrieved one of the pretzels that had just come out of the oven. “Try one,” he offered.

  Elizabeth glanced back at Richard and he nodded encouragingly. As she bit into the pretzel, Richard watched her eyes close for an instant as she hummed her approval, the sound sending a shiver along his spine. Would Elizabeth wear that expression of sublime pleasure when he made love to her? Richard almost groaned at the erotic image.

  “This is delicious.” Elizabeth gestured toward the drying trays stacked along the wall to be brought upstairs. “Why are they laid out on those trays? Is that where they cool?”

  “Cool and dry,” Mr. Perth said. Heading around to the side of the ovens, he retrieved a pretzel that looked dark brown instead of light gold, like the one she held in her hand. “Here's the finished product.”

  Accepting the second pretzel, Elizabeth turned it over in her hand. “It's hard.”

  “Precisely,” Richard said, strolling to join them again. “But it's still delicious . . . yet it lasts up to three months, which makes it a wonderful treat for pubs and clubs to serve.”

  “Because it doesn't spoil,” Elizabeth finished correctly. Tentatively, she bit into the hard pretzel, snapping off a piece in her mouth. “This is just as wonderful.”

  Mr. Perth rocked back on his heels. “And that's the tour, miss. Grand or no, that's the lot of it.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Perth,” she said before looking around the room to include everyone in her thanks. “I truly appreciate your time.”

  “Why don't you come upstairs to my office, Elizabeth?” Richard suggested as he slipped his hand into hers and led her out of the main room of the factory toward the staircase. “I doubt if my men will be able to do a lick of work if you're here. You, my dear,” he murmured, pausing at the base of the stairs to tap a finger to the tip of her nose, “are just too much of a distraction for them.”

  She tilted her head to the side, a saucy move he'd never seen her make before. “And what of you, Lord Vernon? Do I prove to be a distraction for you?”

  17

  For a moment, Richard could only stand there, blinking in surprise at Elizabeth's very un-Elizabeth-like flirtation. “Most certainly,” he returned, sliding his finger along the curve of her jaw, “but luckily for me, I don't have to work this afternoon.”

  “Really?” she purred, her voice soft and seductive. “Then what about . . .” Breaking off, she began t
o laugh and shake her head. “I can't do it,” she finally gasped.

  She'd lost him. “Do what?”

  “Flirt.” Elizabeth sighed dramatically. “I'd promised myself the whole way over to your house that I would be utterly sophisticated and devastatingly charming . . . just like I were any other proper lady of the ton.” She held her arms out to the side. “Which explains my attire.”

  Hearing the doubt in her voice, Richard cupped her cheek in his hand. “But you're not like any other lady I've ever met . . . and I've met more than my share . . . but no other woman has ever captivated me the way you do.”

  “Are you telling me the truth, Richard?” she whispered. “Last night we promised to be friends, and I told you that's all I wanted from you . . . and I meant it.” Confusion darkened her gaze. “But then I found myself dressing like this, wanting to impress you, wishing you would see me like one of the women you'd courted in your past, and then, when you kissed me, I . . .” She broke off and rubbed her cheek against his hand. “I'm so afraid, Richard,” she admitted brokenly. “I'm afraid of how I feel for you, I'm afraid that you'll break my heart, but most of all, I'm afraid that I'll never feel this way about anyone else and if I don't tell you, don't push aside my fear and take a chance, I'll never know what it feels like to love.”

  “Elizabeth,” he groaned hoarsely, before lowering his head to claim her lips once more. The kiss was bold, carnal, and unbelievably powerful, leaving Richard shaking with the need to make love to this glorious woman in his arms. He'd banished her wariness, melted the wall around her heart, and discovered beneath the cool facade lay a vibrant woman who awakened him to the true meaning of hunger, of need, of desire.

  Breaking away from her mouth, he trailed hungry kisses along her neck, gently scraping his teeth along her flesh in an erotic torment. A booming order from Mr. Perth broke through the passion storming through him, reminding him that they were in an open foyer where anyone could come along and see them. Lifting his head, he gazed down at Elizabeth, his breath catching at the sight of her eyes half closed with desire, her mouth parted in welcome, and her cheeks flushed with unsated needs. With a groan, he leaned down, swept her up into his arms, and carried her up the stairs.

  Elizabeth clung to Richard, not knowing where they where headed . . . and not caring. She'd stopped fighting the desires within her, finally understanding why her father had urged her to find someone to love. If the intensity of the emotions filling her even now, on the very threshold of love, were this powerful, she could only imagine the depth and commitment a person would feel after time had strengthened that love. Staring up at Richard, allowing herself to feel everything she'd suppressed, she knew she wanted to grow old with him, share her life with him, be one with this man who was so much more than she'd ever suspected.

  Even when she'd worried so much over losing his friendship, she'd refused to acknowledge why he was so important to her. But when she'd come here, to this factory Richard had built, she'd realized that the depth and maturity she'd sensed in him had indeed been there all along, hidden beneath a facade of ennui and jaded airs.

  And then he had kissed her. Right in front of everyone. She knew she should have been mortified, but the way Richard kissed her, pouring himself into their embrace as if he admired her, as if she were precious to him, as if he loved her . . . erased the twinge of embarrassment she'd felt. Indeed, when he'd finally lifted his head and she'd heard the good-natured cheers, she'd felt victorious, as if she'd just won something very, very important. So, instead of shifting awkwardly about, she'd pretended it was all a grand adventure, turning to curtsey to the men, and bringing that sparkling light of admiration into Richard's eyes. She hadn't felt nervous around Mr. Perth or the other men because, unlike the ton, no one was judging her, no one would find her lacking, so it freed her to behave like herself.

  Down there, in that factory, something had changed between them. It was as if she'd passed a test she hadn't even known she was taking. But something in his gaze had reached inside of her, touching her very core, and made her acknowledge what had been hiding in her heart.

  She loved him. Completely. Irrevocably.

  The planes on Richard's face were taut with desire as he carried her up the stairs. Lifting her hand, she smoothed her fingertips down his cheek, the simple touch making him pause and bend down to press a swift kiss upon her lips.

  The realization that she could so deeply affect this man shook Elizabeth to her very core. “You love me, don't you?” she whispered in wonder.

  His lips curved upward as he gazed down at her. “Madly.”

  Joy, pure and sweet, burst through her. Setting her down, he opened the door in front of them and ushered her into a well-appointed room. A huge desk presided over the room, facing two high-back chairs and the long divan that rested against a side wall.

  “This is your office,” she murmured, taking in the organized stacks of paper upon the desk and the rows of ledgers standing in the book shelf on the rear wall.

  “Yes.” The single word possessed a wealth of pride. But before she even had a chance to praise him, Richard gathered her into his arms once again. “Seeing you here, in my office, standing among the things I hold most dear . . .” Choking on his words, Richard shook his head, unable to complete his thoughts.

  But Elizabeth knew what he meant, and was even more touched that he felt it so deeply it robbed him of the words to express his feelings. What had changed him, made him want more than social flings and wanton pleasures? She didn't know, but she now hoped for a lifetime to find out. “I love you, Richard,” she murmured achingly.

  “My darling Elizabeth,” he rasped before capturing her lips again.

  Opening herself up to him, she gave back the love he offered, accepting his tender caresses along her spine and returning some of her own. When his hands slid into her hair, ruining the elaborate style, Elizabeth welcomed the freedom.

  As he toyed with her mouth, Richard unfastened her gown, exposing the corset beneath. Needing to touch him as well, she slid her hands from around his neck to tug his cravat off, tossing it heedlessly upon the floor.

  Breaking off their kiss, he gazed down at her as he slowly shifted her gown forward, allowing it to pool at her waist, exposing the curves of her breasts beneath her chemise. Richard reached behind her, pulled on the strings of her corset, loosening the garment. A heady sense of abandon filled her as the tight garment was loosened, then discarded, allowing her breasts to fill out the thin chemise.

  Richard's breath caught in his throat. His hand shook as he lifted it to her chest, his fingers lightly stroking along the curve of her breast, brushing the softness of her chemise against her aroused nipple. A moan feathered from her as he cupped her flesh, skimming his thumb over her turgid nipple. The small movement sent a flash of heat straight to her loins.

  “Richard!” Elizabeth arched her head back, curving her hands beneath his jacket.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured as he bent his head to capture her nipple between his lips, moistening the tip through her chemise.

  She'd never even begun to imagine the pleasure a man could give a woman by suckling at her breasts. Clutching at his shoulders, she arched into his touch, silently begging him to continue educating her in the sensual ways of love.

  As he lifted his head, Elizabeth murmured a protest, bringing a smile to his lips. He recaptured her mouth in an explosive kiss, before drawing back again, this time to lift her gown over her head, then tossing it onto the floor, a forgotten puddle of silk. Without pause, he raised her chemise up and tugged it off as well.

  Realizing she was standing before him in nothing but slippers and stockings, Elizabeth gasped in alarm, crossing her arms protectively in front of her.

  “No, no,” he protested softly, clasping her hands within his to draw her arms back up to his shoulders. “Don't hide from me, Elizabeth,” he appealed in soft entreaty. “Not from me.”

  He was right, she thought, calming her jittery
nerves by meeting his love-filled gaze. She'd hidden from him . . . and from her feelings for far too long. It was time to change that.

  Lifting her chin, Elizabeth dropped her hands to her sides, proudly meeting Richard's admiring gaze.

  “Oh, love,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I never knew such perfection existed in this world.” Before she could utter a reply, he swept her up into his arms, carried her to the divan, and laid her down as if she were as fragile as delicate spun glass.

  The way he touched her, making her feel utterly cherished, brought tears of joy to her eyes as he removed her slippers and stockings. Then he grew still, only his gaze roving over her as she lay there upon the divan like a wanton . . . and reveled in the sensation. The touch of his gaze made her ache for the erotic slide of his hands over her skin. Arching upward, Elizabeth silently pleaded for him to make the images in her head a reality.

  Standing, Richard began to tug off his jacket, allowing it to fall unheeded to the floor, with his waistcoat and shirt following swiftly behind. As each layer was removed, revealing more of his masculine flesh, Elizabeth felt her heart beat faster. The curved muscles of his broad chest made her fingers itch to trace the taut lines, to tease his nipples, to feel if the hair trailing in a V pattern down to his stomach was as silky as it looked.

  Propping his hip against the edge of the divan, Richard levered off one boot, then the next, before unfastening his breeches and sliding them off as well. With a swift movement, he removed his stockings, before turning toward her.

  Eagerly, she reached for him as he laid down next to her. A soft moan ripped from him at the erotic glide of flesh against flesh. She'd never imagined that it would feel so good to have him pressed against her. Lifting her hand, she satisfied her curiosity, discovering the softness and springiness of his chest hair, molding along the enticing curves of his chest.

  Not to be outdone, Richard mirrored her path, trailing the tips of his fingers along her breast, onto the slope of her stomach, and along her outer thigh. With a groan, Richard shifted until he rested on top of her and took her mouth with barely contained restraint. Moving his chest side to side, he teased her nipples, making Elizabeth lose herself in the delicious sensations battering her.